Lion Head Mesa Switch my whip, came back in black

This exchange was as interesting as it was perplexing. Atreus didn’t know how to respond to that. What could he offer? He supposed he could try to hunt something or scrounge up some souvenir… but he was hung up on the words “in service.” What service could he provide as a guest?

And whether or not he was welcomed to tour the palace depended on whether he pleased this pharaoh. This at least made some sense to him, though Atreus hesitated. Did he want to bug the leader of this place—with his intensely intimidating title and all—for no particular reason other than because part of him wanted to climb to the top of the mesa to check out the views?

He’d always fallen back on candor in the past, so Atreus chose that route now, saying, I’m not sure what I can offer. What do guests usually offer? I don’t want to waste the pharaoh’s time or anything. I’m not used to any of this and don’t want to be some kind of… pest, he said forthrightly.